Every Story Is A Love Story
by a d.a.n.c.e. of -passion
Summary: We all know the ending, but what about the beginning?  This is a story about a girl who finds true love in the one person she never thought possible.  This is a story of a love that flourished in a time of hate... A LilyJames romance


**Author's Note:** I'm back! And this time I'm going to finish the story. As a warning, it won't be overly long; most likley, it will be around five chapters. I'm hoping to finish it by mid-august at the latest, just as a warning. Now, please, I beg of you, read and review. I like to hear how people view my writing and my ideas. I don't mind if you absolutely hate what I write; I just want to know. I beg of you to be honest in your reviews, and I beg you to review often. Most importantly though... ENJOY! Here's the first chapter, which _was _going to be longer, until I decided to save the second half of it for the next chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize, mainly Hogwarts, Lily Evans, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. But if you recognize anything else to be from the Harry Potter series, I obviously don't own it (though I wish I did).

* * *

**Every Story Is A Love Story: Chapter 1**

"_This is the story of a love that flourished in a time of hate."_

Can this not be said for every story? What makes mine different? What makes it so that this rings true to me, but not to you, or anyone else? Hate is always present; it is one of the few unchanging, constant truths which plague the world. Hate will never disappear, but then again, nor will love. And, if that is the case, one extreme cannot live without the other. Hate breeds love; love breeds hate. It's the simplest form of Newton's First Law of Physics: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Except what I'm talking about are feelings; pure, unadulterated feelings. With love comes hate, or rather, in the story I am about to tell, you fill find that hate seems to spawn love. Hate for each other, hate for unsuspecting civilians, hate for those who deserve it, hatred towards yourself, or rather, just plain hate, seems to bring more people together than anybody would like to realize. And that is why the greatest love stories – not that I'm calling this story great, mind you – are always written so that they are littered with hatred and strong feelings of dislike and disloyalty. Take Romeo and Juliet for instance; it is considered one of the greatest love stories of all time. The reason: the love evolved out of hatred, which seems to only make the love you feel stronger. And, just like Romeo and Juliet does, my story begins with unwavering hatred towards the man I will end up loving, towards the one and only James Potter.

* * *

"Lily Evans, will you go out with me?"

I can't even count how many times I've heard that question. And he just doesn't give up. Knowing him, he _won't _give up. The one and only James Potter will continue to badger me with a blizzard of differently worded versions of the very same question until I give in. And I, Lily Evans, am _not _going to give in. The day I give in to the ungraceful charm of James Potter will be the day you _know _the world is ending. I mean, really. How could he expect me to like him after _years _of the same mix of torture and improperly placed flattery? He can't. He can't even expect me to tolerate him. He truly is the most selfish, conceited, hard-headed, idiotic – well, you get the point – teenager that I will ever have the poor graces to know. I really can go on and on about how much I strongly dislike him. Hate is too strong of a word. I don't _hate _him, because I find room for admiring the bloody prat. He _is _one of the top students in the grade, aside from me, of course, and his best friend Remus Lupin. _And _he achieves this with very little effort. I mean, I've _never _seen him in the library, or doing work at all for that matter. His intelligence really is outstanding. And so is his knack for dealing with people. He really should become a businessman when he leaves Hogwarts. What I admire most about the git, though, is the fact that he has no inhibitions; he is never scared to do _anything_. But all of that is completely beside the point. The point is that he can't seem to get through his thick skull that my answer will always be 'no', especially first thing in the morning.

"Potter," I spat with disgust, "when will you get it through your thick skull that no, I will not go out with you, and I never will, no matter how many times you ask me. So just give up, for all of our sakes. Especially since I already have a boyfriend, and I am _not _breaking up with him for the likes of you."

Now, don't get me wrong; Potter _is _attractive. Actually, he happens to be the number one male prospect in the school, well, aside from Sirius Black. Nobody seems to understand why I just won't say yes to him. Some don't understand because, if it were them, they would have said yes the first time he asked, and they _never _would have let him go. Others, including my two best friends, don't understand, because they think that if I finally say yes to him, I get go on one measly date at let him go. That, actually, is the more ridiculous of the two. James Potter is not one to give up. I have tried, for years, to show him that there is no hope, but every time I even _look _at him, he gets it into his stubbornly thick skull that he has a chance. Which, by the way, he doesn't. And the former would probably end up in murder, or maybe suicide. I really don't think I would be able to spend more than a few hours in his presence without wanting to kill someone or something. He's so conceited, so immature; he is _everything _that I'm not, and most of it, I don't want to be.

"Why not?" he whined, as both me, and my two best friends, Emmeline and Maia glared at him with a hatred one would not expect from us. He then took a step closer to us, as both Emmeline and Maia took a step closer to me, our glares never leaving the persistent face of Potter. He took my hands, which I immediately tried to pull away to no avail. "Did I ever tell you that you have gorgeous eyes?"

And there is the improperly placed flattery that I was speaking about before. He just doesn't get it. He doesn't understand that he _shouldn't _try to compliment me when I'm about to rip his head off. I mean, if the first thing he said to me was 'Lily, you look absolutely ravishing today,' and if he wasn't in the company of his friends, and if he looked into my eyes and I could tell that he really meant it, I wouldn't mind. If he showed _any _sincerity in _anything _he said to me, I wouldn't mind him _nearly _as much. But that never happens. And I highly doubt it _will _ever happen. So basically, James has destined himself to extreme dislike in the eyes of the girl he claims he loves. And he just doesn't get it. He never has, and he never will.

"Get off of me," I growled, yanking my hands out of his slackened grasp with more power than I thought I had. With my new freedom, I shot him one last glare, flipping my vibrant orange hair over my shoulder as I stalked out of the common room, followed by Emmeline and Maia.

* * *

"I can't believe the audacity of him. I mean really, what is he _on_, thinking that his methods of seduction are actually going to work. Especially on you," said Emmeline, the second we stepped out of the common room. And I couldn't agree more. Not only am I distinctly different than any other girl, but I'm not stupid. I'm not going to say yes to him just because he's adorable, smart, unpredictable, and just about everything a girl could want in a guy. I'm not going to fall for his façade. And I'm not going to break up with my boyfriend, considering the fact that I've been dating him for five months and am quite infatuated with him. I might even go as far as to say I am in love with him. James has no chance; no chance at all.

"And people actually think he's _smart_," added Maia.

"And charming," interjected Emmeline, finishing Maia's thought, _per usual_.

It was then that our small parade was interrupted by the arrival of Ephraim Fionn, my aforementioned Ravenclaw boyfriend. His hand slid around my waist as his lips met my cheek for a good morning kiss. I rested my head on his shoulder in a comfortable gesture and dwelled on how safe I felt in his arms; I pondered how comfortable I felt with his presence and his predictability. I loved it. I loved how I always knew what he was doing. I loved how I could read him like a book. Most of all, I loved how he was everything James wasn't. He was kind, caring, sincere, predictable. He had inhibitions; he knew when to stop due to embarrassment. He was safe, which for me, was comforting. He was everything I could ever ask for in a guy. But then again, since when are people the type of person you believe them to be? And since when does the seemingly perfect guy turn out to be as perfect as you think? Rarely; that's when. And _that_ was something I would learn the hard way.


End file.
